Happy Endings Start With Hope
by AmTheDreamer
Summary: At first it's a lot to take in for Emma Swan, but with the help of her parents she's getting better at accepting this new thing in her life called 'a family'. A collection of Charming family one-shots and drabbles based on airing episodes and your prompts.
1. Cut

She didn't even notice when she got hurt. She noticed it much later, when the trail of blood was so long it reached her foot. At first she didn't even think to stop and clean it up, but then she thought of her mother and the fit she would go through if the blood reached any of her furniture. She stepped by the island and sit on a stool, placing her leg up on the island in an almost impossible angle so she could look at the cut in the back side of her thigh.

"Damn razor," she whispered to herself as she observed the deep cut. It was so deep it reminded her of one her earlier foster sisters who used to cut her-self, not even bothering to hide it from little Emma.

"Oh, princess, what did you do?"

She turned her head over her shoulder to see her father standing be the table, shopping bags still in hand.

"I'm fine," she said automatically, defensively, probably too fast for his liking. She was still not used to the variety of nicknames her parents came up with, and what with being surprised by him, she was having a hard time keeping her emotional walls down.

"I don't think you are," he stated. He put the shopping bags on the counter and grabbed a towel. He dipped its tip in water and got closer to her.

"Dad, I'm fi—" she jumped under the cold touch of the towel as he traced the blood from her foot up until the only red spot left was on her cut itself.

"What's it from?" he asked, ignoring her protests. He pressed the towel to her cut in hopes of stopping it from bleeding.

"My razor," she said weakly. "I've had worse, you really shouldn't worry about it".

The look he gave her showed her that was exactly what he was worried about. "I'm not doing anything," he reassured her. "I'm just stopping the blood so we can put a band aid on it".

She watched as he pushed gently, careful not to hurt her. But she was not ready to give up just yet. "Dad—" she started again.

"Are you going to keep arguing with me?" he asked in a sharp voice, giving her a stern look she knew meant 'don't even think about it'.

"But—" she started, just as stubborn as he was, she knew.

"Another but and I'm taking you to the hospital. I bet they could take better care of this. Maybe even give you a tetanus shot, just in case".

His eyes dug into hers as he watched her wince.

"Fine".

He put a band aid over the cut and gently pressed his lips to it. When he raised his head again, he gave her a content smile.

"There, all better now".

"I can't believe you just kissed it better," she said with a smirk.

"Says the girl who didn't shut up until I threatened with a shot," he sent her a smirk identical to hers.

She knew she was bluching, so she sent him her best smile.

"I swear some-times I have no idea how to deal with you, Dad," she whispered.

"Me too, kiddo. Me too".


	2. Falling Asleep

"Emma, you're falling asleep," he told his daughter. They were watching a movie together. It was almost midnight and Snow and the boys were already fast asleep.

"Am not," she murmured and he couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of her like that. His daughter, his thirty year old, very much his age, daughter, was curled into a ball by the corner of the sofa, head resting on her own shoulder.

"Yes you are. We could watch the rest of the movie tomorrow".

He watched as she tried to shake her head from side to side but ended up throwing it over to rest on the other shoulder.

"We watch now," she barely whispered. He smiled to himself as he turned his head back to the television. He'd let her sleep on the sofa for a few moments if that was what she wanted.

The sofa shook and he felt her move closer to him, probably unconsciously. She shivered as she nudged at the hem of his shirt.

"Cold".

He laughed softly and pulled her closer, hugging her tight. He just hoped she wouldn't remember it all in the morning, because if she did she would probably kill him.

"I think it's bed time for this princess," he said and paused the movie. He got up to turn on the television only to be stopped by her searching hands. She reached forward, her eyes still closed, looking for the warmth she lost once he got up.

"I'm here," he assured her with a soft voice as he out his hands under her neck and knees and picked her up. She buried her head in the crook of his neck and smiled contently as he climbed up the stairs.

Picking first into Neal's room to find his son sound asleep, he quietly snuck into her room, careful not to wake Henry up. He placed her on her ned and kissed her temple gently. He manages to get around the bed and make sure she wasn't cold before he took a step back.

"Sleep tight, princess," he whispered.

A few hours later and into the night, she woke up. A look around and a fight with her blankets has her think back the evening.

"You just had to tuck me in. didn't you?" she said to herself and turned around to look for Henry. She smile as she saw him, and with a sift, content sigh, she gave in to sleep once again.


	3. Glasses

"Are these glasses?" he asked as he sat beside her on the sofa.

She raised her head to look at him and he watched as her cheeks turned pink. "Unfortunately," she answered quietly.

Usually she wouldn't dare using her glasses. But she had a really, really long day, and her eyes had started to ache a few hours back. The moment she stepped in her parents' apartment she changed into her pyjamas and took the contacts out of her eyes, rubbing them. But the moment the contacts were out, she became her one-hundred-per-cent-blind self and had to find her glasses. They were buried inside an old bag she hadn't even bothered opening since they came back from New York.

"I didn't know you even owned a pair," her father said with a shrug. "I guess I thought you only had contacts".

She knew she was blushing. Her hand rose automatically to adjust the black frame that was suddenly really heavy on her nose.

"It's ugly, I know," she answered. "I usually avoid them, but… I had a terrible day and my eyes really hurt. I took the contacts out but then I almost ran into Neal's cot and fell down the stairs so I figured I should look up for them so I could actually see".

He chuckled softly. "They're not even close to terrible". He gave her a charming smile as he went on. "You look beautiful".

She shot him her best smirk. "Well, I for one, think you only say it because you're my dad".

She watched as he froze in place. She knew how her parents felt when-ever she acknowledged their relationship, and it had become her best weapon.

"No way," he said, shooting her a smirk of his own. "I'm saying it because you, princess, are beautiful. With or without your glasses".

She looked at him with a touched smile. "God, you're such a dad," she barely whispered not intending for him to hear her. But of course he did.

"That I am," he said proudly. "So you nearly walked into your baby brother, uh?" he laughed, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Can't help it," she shrugged, moving closer to him, "I'm properly bling".

"Good thing we're all here to guide you through," he told her and pulled her into a side hug, her head hovering just above his shoulder.

For a second there he was afraid she was going to pull away, but she showed no sign of getting up.

"That was the cheesiest line to ever come out of your mouth," she laughed, "and that's saying some-thing because you're Prince Charming".

"Sorry, but I can't help but point out the truth". He raised his hand and moved a strand of hair from her face. "You should consider wearing those more".

"No chance in hell," she stated, playfully shoving him away.

"Language," he scolded, suddenly serious.

"But I look aweful!"

"No, you don't. And even if you did".

"Fine," she ducked her head. "Sorry. But I'm still not wearing them outside of this house".

He gave her a small smile. "Okay. But when your mum comes home and sees you like this, I'll be here to say 'I told you so' when she'll say how beautiful you look".

"You're unbelievable," she shook her head.


	4. Girls Night

"Where's your father?" she asked as she entered the way-too-quiet flat.

"He took Henry and Neal out for a boys night," Emma said from where she stood by the over.

"He took you brother where?" she shouted. "He's five months old!"

"I have no idea," Emma responded, distracted over some-thing Snow could not see from where she was standing. She stood on the tips of her toes, looking over her daughter's shoulder just I time to see her drop a bowl full of flour.

"What exactly are you doing?" she questioned, putting her hands over her waist.

"I, umm," Emma stumbled, "I kind of tried to make dinner. I'm hungry…"

"Well, you're making a mess".

"I'm sorry I have zero cooking skills," Emma answered, amused.

They both grabbed wet towels and bent down to wipe the floor. Snow was about to offer her help with dinner, just as a thought crossed her mind. She had an idea how to turn this night even better.

"What if we invite Red and Belle and hae our own girls night while our father's gone with the boys?"

Emma looked at her with wide, alarmed eyes. "A what?" she asked, outraged.

"A girls night. We could make pancakes and popcorn; we could watch a movie and talk. Come on, it'll be fun!"

Emma gave her a mortified look. "No, no. No way in hell," she said as she shook her head.

"Language, Emma," Snow scolded. A few months ago Snow would probably ignore it, not feeling quite the mother to scold her daughter. But ever since Emma came back after her trip to the past, their relationship had been feeling different. A bit more of a 'daughter and her parents' nature to it.

She smiled as she heard Emma mumble a quiet 'sorry' under her breath.

"Why not though?" she asked innocently.

"Because," Emma insisted, "we can't host a girls-night. And that's definite".

Snow did her best to hide her smirk. "Honey, it's really not that bad".

"You're my mother!" she pressed, and Snow knew she was beaming. Her heart still skipped a beat when-ever Emma acknowledged her as her mother.

"Emma, Red and Belle are your friends as much as they are mine," she reasoned.

"Yeah, but still, Ruby is my mother's best friend. And Belle is… kind of my mother in law I guess?" she watched as her daughter winced at the thought. "And besides, what are you going to do when they want… intimate details?"

'She always had her father's tact," Snow thought to herself before answering her daughter. "It's hardly a secret that your father and I had had our fair share of intimate moments, honey. I did give birth to you and Neal," she said through a laugh.

Emma covered her ears with her hands. "God, mum, did you really have to?!"

She couldn't hold her laughter any-more. Charming was right. It really was amazing they could easily provide her with some childhood traumas at this stage.

"Go on Emma, change and come back down. I'll give Red and Belle a call".

"Fine," Emma huffed and turned to climb the stairs.

She called her friends and made them promise to be there in ten minutes, so she decided to start working on the pancake batter. But just as she opened the fridge to look for some eggs, she heard Emma come down the stairs.

"You and I have a deal to make before they get here".

Snow looked up to see her daughter, newly dressed, fighting her messy hair into a pony tail at no success.

"Why don't you just leave it be?" she asked, amused.

"It's hot and my hair doesn't respond well to humidity. But don't go changing the subject".

"I could braid it for you," Snow suddenly said, gathering the courage to ask her daughter for something she had been dreaming of ever since she had discovered she was pregnant. "Any style you want even. French, fishtail, crown, you name it".

She watched as her daughter tried to decide whether to push her mother so seal a deal or to let her braid her hair.

"We could discuss that deal of yours while I braid your hair honey," She decided to put her out of her misery.

Emma nodded and turned to sit in front of her. "Do you really know all of those styles?"

"Yeah," Snow assured her, "now which is it going to be?"

Emma ducked her head in embarrassment, as if scared to admit that she wanted it as much as Snow did. "Crown is okay," she said shyly. "Thanks mum".

"Always honey," she said as she started working. "And that deal of yours?"

"I'll try to have fun," she started, ignoring Snow's hum, "if you promise to avoid any-thing I wouldn't want to hear, any… intimate detail, about you two".

"It's a deal," Snow relied easily, working Emma's hair around the crown of her hair.

They were quiet for a few seconds before Snow spoke again. "Such a beautiful girl," she said in a teary voice, as she helped Emma up and examined her work. Emma blushed at that and ducked her head again.

"Stop," she whispered.

"No Emma, but you are. So, so beautiful. My beautiful baby girl," she said, running the tip of her thumb over Emma's cheek.

She knew Emma was about to protest, to stop her from calling her her baby girl again. But a knock on the door stopped her from saying any-thing. She gave her daughter a last, teary smile before turning to open the door.

* * *

They ate and drank and even started a movie. But then Belle asked about Neal and Snow started go on about her beautiful boy. And we started talking about him, there was no stopping her.

"So he sleeps through the night peacefully?" Belle asked.

"Oh yeah, like an angel," Snow answered, wrapping her right arm around Emma's shoulder.

"Wait, but, have you and Charming had any moment for yourselves?" Red asked, her eyebrows raised with curiosity.

"Well, not too many of them, but when we do he does…"

Emma's loud groan made her stop and look at her. "Seriously, I don't think I want to listen to that," she said.

Snow watched as her daughter got up and grabbed her earphones from the kitchen table. She stuck them into her ears and closed her eyes.

Snow smirked in her direction before turning back to Red and Belle and going on.

* * *

The girls had gone home and Emma was sitting by the kitchen table, enjoying the silence. Every once in a while she shot Snow a dirty look, as if to make sure that her mother knew how furious she was at her for breaking their deal.

The main door swung open and both Snow and Emma watched quietly as Charming carried sleeping Neal up to his bedroom, followed by Henry, who looked like he could use some sleep himself.

She watched as her husband came down the stairs and made her steps to get closer to him. Their lips collided into a soft kiss before they broke apart. "Did you have a good time?" she asked.

"Yes, we did. We ate and went for a walk around town. Just something nice, nothing too special. You?"

"Oh, we had a great evening, didn't we Emma?" she smirked at her daughter. Emma shoot her a death glare before turning to Charming.

"Dad," she whined, "please, don't you ever give mum crazy idea and then leave me alone to deal with them, ever again. Please dad?"

He looked back at Snow before turning back to face his daughter. She took a step in his direction and crushed into him, hugging him tight and almost knocking him over. "Please, dad," she groaned.

"Sure, princess," he promised with a smile.


	5. Never Again

No, she didn't see her family in that book. She saw fairy tale characters, heroes and villains, fighting for their right to live or win. The Enchanted Forest was nothing more than a distant place she once visited, a place she never saw in all of its glory. Never, until that moment.

The fall was rough but she'd handled worse before. It took her a few moments to realize what had just happened, and after she understood where she was, she realized another thing. It was not the present, it was the past, and if there was one thing she learnt from Back to the Future, it was that you shouldn't mess with the past. Snatching the poster off the tree, she frantically started looking for the right page in Henry's book. She had to find her way back home, and in order to do that, she had to figure out when exactly in that time-line they were.

Nothing in the Enchanted Forest felt like home. It was all new, different, so unlike her last time there, years and years ahead of where she was at that moment. She kept looking around every few steps, watching her back and watching Hook all the same. It's not here home at the moment, she realized, but it was going to be her home in a few years. And suddenly she felt very young, walking the land in a time where her parents are still young, where she was still not even an idea. She felt like a little girl, and the little girl in her wanted to go home.

Out of the blue, he pushed her to the side of the rode, and she found herself staring at David as he walked on the path. Between him and the horses, the princess and the knights, she suddenly smelt this combination she can't understand. She'd smelt it before, she was certain, but she could just not figure out what it was. And before she knew it, her mother fell off the tree and her father rode away. And trouble was heading their way, because she had just interrupted their meeting.

She didn't smell it for long then, finding herself in Regina's hands. She smelt it again just hours later, when she was watching her mother die, standing between her father, Red and Hook. It's that scent again, and she couldn't put her finger on its source.

And then she was home again, after days of torture and realizations. She ran into the diner and crushed into her parents' arms and finally she could understand. Because that combination of scents was her father. His leather jacket combined with his very specific cologne. So she buried her nose deep into the crook of his neck, and at once she felt safe. At once she felt at home.

She backed away only long enough to whisper the words. To tell them she missed them, to make sure they knew she loved them. And then she crashed into his chest again, feeling his hand as he held her head gently, like she was still his little baby.

"Daddy," she whispered when they were home, all alone. "You were there, but you weren't really there and…"

But she didn't have to finish that sentence, because she was in his arms again. "I know princess. Never again".


	6. Can't Sleep

Neal breathed slowly, sucking on his tiny finger. She watched him quietly, lost in the beautiful thing that was her brother. It was the middle of the night and she couldn't sleep. So much had happened during the last few days, and she finally felt at home. But as happy as she was, she just couldn't sleep. She did try, but whenever she closed her eyes she saw the same moment over and over again. Her mother was burning down in flames, and she could so nothing to help her. Her father was there too, watching the whole thing, but not recognizing her mother, not even aching her death. She wanted to save her mother, she wanted her father to hug her and tell her it was going to be okay, but none of that happened, and she kept waking up screaming. Earlier, when she had finally give up on sleeping, she decided to go down the stairs to check on her parents, just to be on the safe side. But the moment she walked down, she caught Neal in the corner of her eye and just had to stop and stare.

"Why are you up?" a voice barely whispered behind her. She turned around to see her father standing by their bed, looking at her.

"Oh god, sorry, did I wake you up?" she panicked. But a small voice inside her, the voice of the lost little girl, , you're here,

"It's all right Emma. Why are you up?"

The concern in his eyes was heart warming. But he wasn't supposed to wake up and it was all her fault. "I woke you up," she stated. "I'll go. Go back to sleep".

She turned to leave, but her father's hand found its way to her shoulder and held her in place.

"Why are you awake Emma?" he demanded.

She ducked her head in defeat as she whispered back. "Bad dream".

He nodded his head. "Come with me".

She followed him to the kitchen where he motioned for her to sit down. She watched as he pressed the kettle on and turned on a night light by the counter. She sent him a confused look to which he just smiled.

"If you're anything like your mother," he said after a while, "hot cocoa is what will help you back to sleep. Do you want to talk about it?"

Emma shook her head automatically before really giving it a thought. Maybe talking to her father wasn't such a bad idea?

"Talking helps," he prompted, placing the steaming mug in front of her. He pushed the cinnamon container in her direction. Emma looked at it for a second, then picked it up and added some to her cocoa.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight," she said truthfully. He nodded, sitting in front of her with a mug of his own.

"Does it have to do with your past?" He didn't like pushing her. But even less did he like watching her suffer.

Emma shook her head slowly, and he could tell she was fighting for words. That was the right time to stop talking and let her work her way to it, he knew.

"It's the past. Like, far into it".

"How far?"

"Years and years, before I was born," she said weakly.

He smirked at her. "Are you saying I'm old, young lady?"

His heart did a happy dance at the little smile Emma sent his way. "You can tell me," he said.

"It's about the past I've been to, when you and mum met". And just like that, it was out. She felt the tears coming back to her eyes, the lump in her throat building its way up. "I keep seeing that moment, when she got burnt to death. And I can't do anything, and… And you don't recognize her, or me. And I just feel so… So alone".

His hand cupped hers and he squeezed lightly. "It's okay," he whispered, "you'll never be alone again".

She knew he was right. She trusted her parents now more than she trusted herself. Her days in the past had proven they were every-thing she ever needed. But her father, the right version of him, was here in reality. In the dreams it was just the Prince, not her dad.

"I can't sleep dad, I can't get back there again. It's too much already".

His heart ached. His little princess, who had just come to terms with her parents, was suffering. And he couldn't do anything about it.

"I have an idea," he said softly and took her by the hand. He led her upstairs and watched as she crawled into bed. Then he turned and when outside her room to fetch the candle that was waiting by the top of the stairs. He placed it on her nightstand and lit it up.

"To keep the bad dreams away," he explained. "You can sleep, princess".

She looked at him, her eyes searching for his. She hated being so vulnerable, but it was just too much and she was keeping it from them for a few nights already. "Thanks," she whispered.

"Of course," he smiled, "Anytime you need. Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?"

Emma stared at the far wall behind him for a minute or two, staying quiet. Finally, she shook her head softly. "I don't think so. Will you…"

Her voice faded away, and he felt his heart pound. "Stay with you?" he asked, trying to hide the hope in his question.

She nodded, and he sat by her feet. "For as long as you need," he whispered. "Close your eyes, Emma. And I'll be here if you wake up".

He hesitated for a few short moments before his hand rose to her forehead and he moved her hair away from her eyes. She gave him a small smile, closed her eyes and found his hand with her own. Holding tight to it, as if life depended on it, she squeezed it.

He watched his princess as her breathes slowed and evened as she finally fell asleep.

"Sleep well my princess," he whispered, kissing her forehead. He rose up to leave the room and just before turning around he adjusted the blankets so she wouldn't get cold.


	7. Nightmares

He woke up to screams. Out of bed like a lightning, he ran upstairs to where his daughter was sleeping. Henry was spending the night at Regina's, and with Neal starting to sleep through the night, Snow and him finally had their bedroom all to themselves.

He ran into his daughter's room to find her sitting her bed, confused. Her eyes were blood-shot and she was moving her head frantically, trying to figure out where she was. He carefully sat next to her, trying to soothe without freaking her out. She was finally starting to feel completely okay with having her parents around, but it was still difficult at times.

"Hey, hey, you're okay," he whispered. "It's over now". His hand found its way to her neck, holding her tight.

Her eyes moved from one side of the room to the other, looking for something, until they landed on his, digging into them. He leaned closer, his free hand holding to her arm. Looking back into her eyes, he gave her a reassuring smile. "Talk to me," he said gently.

She kept staring at him quietly. She started batting her eyes slowly, probably holding back tears, but said nothing. She sat in front of him, letting him do as he wished, but made no move to acknowledge he was even there with her. No move except for looking directly into his eyes.

Tears started rolling down her face, and she made no move to wipe them away. So he moved his hand from her neck and, using his thumb, he started wiping them away gently. "You're okay now, Emma," he whispered. "It's all over".

He had never seen his daughter in such a state, and it was scaring him. Looking around him he located his candle lying on her table. Squeezing her arm gently, he got up and took the candle, placing it on her nightstand. He took out a match from the box next to it, and lit the candle. "To keep the dreams away," he murmured.

He sat back on the ned and was about to make a move to get closer to her, but her hands were faster and before he knew it she was grabbing at his shirt. He pulled her into a tight hug, his hand finding the back of her head to pull her closer, to make sure she knows she is safe in his arms.

"You died," she whispered.

—-

She woke up to Neal's cries coming out of the baby monitor. With a sigh, she crawled out of bed and climbed the stairs. On her way to his room, she picked into Emma's room. Inside it she could see David lighting his candle. With a smile, she turned into her son's room, picking him up from his bed.

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked gently. "Your big sister did too, did you know?"

She smiled as he relaxed into her arms. "There's no need to worry though," she whispered, "your daddy is with her, and he'll take good care of her".

—-

"You died," she said again when he nodded, "and there was nothing I could do about it. I just had to watch as you died, and then mum died, and Neal, and Henry. And I was all alone again".

"It's okay, I'm here now Emma".

"We all are," he heard behind him. He turned around just enough to see his wife standing by the door, their son in her hands. "And I think we could all use some hot cocoa. What do you think?"

He watched as his wife disappeared before turning back o his little girl. "Come on, Emma, let's get you down there".

She made no move to raise out of bed. Using his hand, he helped her up and held her tight. "I'm not leaving your side, honey," he promised, as he led her down the stairs.

He watched as she sat down on a stool, able to see his wife pouring hot water into the mugs in the corner of his eye. Neal was in his playpen, already asleep. He sat in front of Emma, and grabbed a stool for his wife to sit on right next him. He watched as snow pushed the mugs in his daughter's direction and in his, and handed Emma the cinnamon container.

Emma eyes her mother for a few short seconds before she finally took the container and added cinnamon to her mug, pushing the container away. "Thanks," she murmured.

"What is it honey?" Snow prompted.

"You died," Emma said in that quiet tone she used before. This time she was finding the mug more interesting than any of her parents. "You died, and I had nothing to do but watch it happen".

Snow's hand was wrapped around Emma's, and he watched as his daughter relaxed into the touch. "We will never let that happen," she reassured her. But Emma wasn't excepting it.

"You can't promise that. You can't promise you won't die".

"No, we can't," he interrupted, "but what we can do, is promise you that we will never ever let you be alone again. And I know, that I will never let any of you die".

Emma gave him a weak smile. "I know," she whispered, he voice breaking, "but I wouldn't be able to deal with you dying as well".

"So it's a good thing I'm here to keep that from happening," his wife chuckled. "And we have the whole town behind our backs. No one, Emma, is going to leave you and let you be alone".

They were quiet then, each of them appreciating the others in from of them. The held to each other's gazes, thankful for the opportunity to have that time together now, after twenty eight years apart.

"Now," he smiled, "what do you say I'll make us some popcorn and you two go pick up a movie? I think we all deserve a movie night".

Emma's grin was all he needed for an answer he turned around to make the popcorn and couldn't help but laugh at his wife's shout.

"But it's not even accurate!"

You could count on Emma to pick Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarves as their movie.

—-

"You're totally prettier and way more awesome than Disney's Snow White, mum," Emma said with a smile, cuddling in the small distance between Snow and him.

"And what about me?" he asked with a mock offended frown. "Am I not better?"

"Of course you are, dad, of course you are".


	8. Chickenpox

She woke up to the sound of her brother's soft cries. She turned in her bed to find it empty. Getting up, she panicked before remembering Henry was at Regina's. She knew her brother's cries were still to low for her parents to wake up from so she quietly left her room and went into his. She looked down at her poor little brother, all covered in red spots, before she picked him up and gave him a sad smile. Her poor baby brother had chickenpox and he was just so miserable.

"Don't worry, Neal. I'm right here". She looked at him as he played with her hair with a sleepy look. Her beautiful baby brother, her Neal. And actually, thinking about it, she still had to find the perfect nickname for the little boy. "What do you think of Nay-Nay? Will that work?"

He giggled softly, and she was about to tell him that she was going to take that as a yes when her mother walked into the room, arms folded over her chest.

"Didn't we talk about it? Didn't we say that you have to stay away from your little brother?" she asked softly as she took Neal from her arms.

"No," Emma said with her best aim at innocence, "you and dad said that. I said that I'm not going to leave Neal to suffer alone, even if it means I got chickenpox myself".

"Go back to bed," Snow answered, ignoring her daughter, "You're not getting chickenpox. Not under my watch".

Emma huffed and turned back on her heals. She was not going to let her mother win this battle.

—

She woke up again to her little brother's cries. A short glance at her alarm clock showed it was not half an hour ago she walked back into her room. She sighed quietly and snuck out of her bedroom, hoping to get to Neal's bedroom before one of her parents woke up. But the moment she picked up her brother her mother walked into the room and took him from her ends.

"Go to sleep Emma," she smiled at her. "And next time don't even come into this room".

—

She woke up twice after that. Her brother was suffering, and it hurt her heart. Every time she was awoken, she sneaked out of her room in hopes of beating her parents to her brother. She knew they needed their sleep, and she knew Neal was feeling better with some-one by his side. And if she could get the two, it was perfect.

But during those times her mother wasn't as gentle as before. She folded her arms over her chest and demanded that Emma left the room and stayed away from her little brother. Chickenpox for her daughter was not an option.

—

When she woke up the fifth time it was already morning. Neal was whimpering in his room, and as she opened her eyes she saw the light coming in from the window. She could smell the eggs her mother was cooking, the coffee and hot chocolate her father was brewing, and she actually thought of staying in her room and that way staying out of trouble. But her parents weren't coming up, and Neal was really suffering. Maybe they left the monitor somewhere, she thought. Waiting for a bit longer and hearing no one coming up, she decided to go and check on her brother. She got up and walked into his room.

This time she didn't pick him up. She sat on the rocking chair, looking down at him. "hey Nay-Nay, it's okay, you're okay now," she whispered, gently rubbing his tummy. She knew she shouldn't rub too hard, so to not make his skin scar, so she drew tiny circles, trying to soothe the itch. He looked up at he, hands up as if trying to grab her face, before he relaxed and gave in to her touch.

"How old are you?"

She turned around to find her mother giving her that look. That look that meant she was in serious trouble.

"Uh… Thirty?" she hesitated, not wanting to know what's to come.

"Then why are you acting like you're five?" her mother asked sharply.

"He's suffering!" she answered, just as sharply. "And I'm not letting him go through that alone! I know how it feels".

She watched as her mother's eyes went soft for a moment before the sharp look was back on. "Go downstairs Emma, and join your father in the living room. I'm taking Neal out to meet with Henry at the playground. You have to understand Emma. You're the only one here who hadn't gone through chickenpox and I'm not letting you get it".

So Emma walked down stairs as dramatically as she could and fell down in the sofa by her father's side.

"What did you do?" he asked in a teasing tone, without looking away from the television.

She gaped at him. "Hey! Why do you automatically take her side?"

"I'm not," he chuckled, throwing his hands up in defeat, "I just happen to know your guilty look".

She ducked her head. Of course he did. "Let's just say she caught me in Neal's room again".

"Again?"

"For the fifth time or something like that," she whispered.

He eyed her, his soft look turning into a frown. "We talked about it".

"Not you too, please," she gave him her best puppy dogs. But he wasn't having any of it.

"We told you to stay away from him, Emma; you know it's for your own good".

She was about to get up and leave, just as Snow went down the stairs. "Charming," she said softly, "I'm hopping into the shower before I'm going out with Neal. Please make sure your daughter stays out of his room".

"His daughter," she growled, "is thirty and is able o hear you".

Snow gave her a warning look before turning around and heading into the bathroom.

—

Neal was crying and she wasn't about to let him suffer. "I'm going to get him," she toldf her father, leaving no room for debate. She got up and urned to climb the stairs.

"Emma Swan, come back here right now," he said firmly. "Sit back or I'm telling your mother".

He best puppy dog eyes weren't working. Maybe it was time for the big guns. "Daddy, please," she pleaded, "let me help".

She watched her father's obvious battle. She had started to have faith that he was going to break, but he stood up and blocked her way to the stairs.

"Sit down".

She sent him a dirty look before she sat down. Seriously, what were they expecting of her? To leave him to suffer alone?

"We just don't want you sick," her mother said behind her, rubbing her hair with a towel. "And we would appreciate it if you would stop making it so hard".

"Mu—"

"Don't even think of finishing that sentence, Emma Swan," Snow said sharply. "I'm not your father. A simple Mummy wouldn't break me. Though I wouldn't deny it would make me the happiest woman on earth".

Emma smiled, cheeks flushing. "Fine," she murmured, this time ready to stop fighting. "Sorry Mummy".


	9. Eat Your Salad

"You sure you'll be alright through the night?" she held the phone using her shoulder. She had just dropped Henry off at Regina's and was trying to get into her car, holding both her phone and the numerous shopping bags.

"Of course, don't worry," her father's voice said through the phone. "you go and have some quality time with your mother".

"And little brother," she breathed, finally sitting down in the driver's seat. "Ok, Dad, I'm starting to drive. If you need anything just give me a call".

"Bye princess," he said, and she hung up the phone, throwing it on the passenger seat.

Ever since she came back from the past, the relationship she had with both her parents had been growing closer and closer. She learnt that when they were upset they had a disciplinary voice, one that she couldn't argue with, but she had also learnt that it was some-times enough to give them her puppy dog eyes, or call them sweet names in order for them to do what-ever she wanted.

She parked her car and struggled out of it, once again holding all the bags. Standing in front of the door she debated for a second what to do before kicking it gently with her right foot.

The door opened way too fast for her liking and in front of her stood her mother, arms folded over her chest. "I had just put your brother to sleep," she whispered angrily, "and you decide to come and kick the door".

"Sorry," she murmured, giving her mother two bags to carry inside.

"So what did you buy?" Snow asked after they had settled the bags down on the counter.

Emma gave her a soft smile. "Would be better to ask what I didn't buy. I got all the chocolate in the world, and then some. And a lot of ice cream and drinks".

"Of course you did. Any-thing for dinner, or are we skipping that?" Snow smirked.

"Oh".

"Yeah, I thought you'd say that. I made us some pasta and salad".

She made a disgusted face and wrinkled her nose. "Salad is for the weak," she said in a whiny tone. She loved defying her mother.

"NO, salad is for the ones who want to leave till their three hundred".

"I'll be fine with only a couple hundred," Emma smiled. "Seriously Mum, chocolate and ice cream are a good enough dinner for me".

"Don't even start with me, Emma," Snow smirked and turned around to put the ice cream in the freezer.

"So did I miss Neal?" Emma asked quietly, sitting down by the kitchen island.

"Yeah, by the minute. He finally fell asleep. This kid hates sleeping as much as you hate your salad".

Emma laughed quietly and grabbed an empty bag, throwing it at her mother's head. But of course Snow ducked just in time for it to miss it.

"Oh, that's a war you've started," she declared, picking the bag up and throwing it at her daughter. She then turned around and poured the pasts into two different plates.

Turning to set the plates on the table, she saw Emma try to sneak out a cookie from the jar resting on the counter. "Emma!"

With a 'busted' look, Emma turned around to face her mother. "Please?"

"No, we are having dinner".

Seriously, who needed dinner when they had so much chocolate and cookies and other delicious stuff? Emma batted her eyes, giving her mother her best puppy dog eyes. "Pretty please?" she asked.

"How old are you?" Snow shook her head and took a step before snatching the cookie out of Emma's hands. "You can eat your cookie after you eat dinner".

"But Mum—"

"No buts," Snow answered, "sit down".

Emma folded her hands over her chest. "That's a war," she whispered before sitting down. Inside, her heart was doing a happy dance. She loved those little moments between her and her parents, those little wars and shows of stubbornness.

She picked at her pasta, not really ready to give up just yet. She was going to have that cookie. And besides, there was no way she was eating any salad.

"Come on Emma, eat your salad, and we can go put on that movie we planned".

"I'm not going to eat it," she smiled, "you know I hate it".

"Yeah, I also know that if you'll eat it, I'll make you a hot cocoa to go with the snacks you bought".

Emma gave her a serious look. "No," she said in mock shock, "you won't make me eat it".

She knew her mother was fighting a laugh. "Just eat the salad Emma," she sighed, taking another bite of her pasta.

"No way, I just want that cookie. Please Mum?"

"Stop giving me that look," Snow laughed, "it's not going to convince me".

Emma chuckled. Time to pull the big guns. "Please Mama?" she said in a whiny voice, her eyes glittering.

"Sometimes I think I'm dealing with a three year old. Eat your salad Emma," she said, "and I might not ground you".


	10. Sick

Emma Swan hated being sick with all her heart. She felt weak and childish, laying on the sofa and blowing her nose, while her parents and son ran around the house to make sure she felt comfortable, bringing her tea and medicine and taking her temperature.

So it was a good thing when Henry finally went to seep, and Neal was out for the night. She was curled up on the sofa by her father's side (she had protested but he ignored her). His hand was around her shoulder and she was pulled at his side, her head hovering above his chest. Her mother was on her other side, her right hand playing softly with Emma's hair, her eyes constantly looking for her husband's.

They were supposed to be watching a movie. The Princess Bride was on, but neither was watching. Looking around, Emma found her parents staring at each other, and she was any-ways to sick to be able to concentrate on any of Buttercup's actions. She was staring at her father for too long, probably, because at some point he moved his gaze and found her eyes.

He gave her his charming smile and squeezed her closer before letting go. "I think it's time you went to bed," he said softly.

"You know I'm not five, right?"

She sat back so she could comfortably look into his eyes. But before she could make eye contact she gave in to a violent coughing fit.

"Yeah, but I also know that you're very sick and you need the rest".

She gave him a sharp look (well, at least she thought it was sharp. She was too sick). But her father was the source of her stubbornness, and there was no winning with him. Unless, of course, you knew how to play your cards right. Which she didn't have the energy to do.

On her other side she felt her mother rise. She turned around to watch as her mother went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. She'd keep watching, but her father tapped her back to make her turn around.

"Bed," he said simply once she was looking back at him.

"Fine, fine, I'm going. But when I'm waking up in the morning I expect something in return. Pancakes should so," she nodded with a smirk.

Her father raised his eyebrow at her, giving her a smirk of his own, "And you declare to not being five years old".

"I could say the same about you," she smiled. "Good night Dad".

She was about to get up, but he pulled her back down and kissed the top of her head. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he motioned to her mother in the kitchen. She nodded and got up, walking to the kitchen.

"That's my girl," he encouraged. Looking back at him, she raised her eyebrow and rolled her eyes.

"Good night, Mum," she whispered, letting her mother hug her softly. "And while I'm gone, make sure your husband knows I'm not five".

Her mother smirked at her. "Oh, honey, I doubt it will make any difference if I did".

"I heard that," he shouted from the living room. "Now go to sleep. Good night princess. Have sweet dreams".

She climbed the stairs, not looking back. "Make sure there are pancakes, or I might take on the five year old act and throw a tantrum".


	11. That Place

"Remind me why we are doing this again?"

Snow peered from behind the tower of shoe boxes. "Because this house is already too crowded, and we definitely don't need all these documents anymore".

He sat straight on the bed, looking over at his wife, who was now sitting between old newspapers and school documents. "So why don't you just throw those out?"

"Because, there might be something we actually need in here. Come on, Charming, if you actually helped me it would be much faster". She picked up an old newspaper from the 'Throw Away' pile and chucked it at his head.

He caught it, laughing softlu. "Okay, okay, I'm helping". He sent his hand in her general direction and picked three newspapers up from the floor. "A storm to hit Storybrooke," he read aloud. "Throw away or keep?"

"Definitely throw away".

He placed the paper gently in throw away pile, before moving back to read the next headline. He started reading, his eyes growing wild. "Is this—?"

"Oh my god!"

Snow looked up to see her daughter sitting by Charming's side, the newspaper wrinkled in her hand. Charming was staring at the wall, not even acknowledging his daughter.

"I can't believe you saved that!" Emma was practically shouting.

Having no idea what Emma was talking about, Snow got up slowly and reached for her hand. With a gentle touch she made Emma open the fist that was now protecting the newspaper and straight it back until she could read the headline.

Ex-Jailbird: Emma Swan Birthed Babe Behind Bars.

Snow shuddered and gave Emma a sorry look. "I had no idea it was here Emma," she whispered softly, sitting by her husband's side.

Charming, finally out of the shock, gave Emma a questioning look. "Why is it in the Storybrooke Daily Mirror?"

Emma shot her hand and grabbed the newspaper from her mother, her fist protecting it once again. "Regina was trying to get back at me. I have no idea how she got it. It's a juvie record". She turned back to Snow, shooting her an angry look. "Why the hell did you save that?"

Snow shook her head desperately. "I must have thrown it in here when it was published. So you could stop staring at it and ruin your life".

"You think staring at it would have destroyed my life? I think actually being in jail would," she spat. She knew Snow didn't do it on purpose, surely not once she realised she was her own daughter, but Emma could just not forget the look her father head once he read the title.

"Please don't say that".

Shocked that her father had opened his mouth, Emma sat back down and looked at him quietly. "I was seventeen, in jail and pregnant. Don't you think it's definitely a life ruined?"

He looked up and sent her a small smile. "I think that you're a thirty year old who've found her parents, has a great ten year old boy and a beautiful baby brother. I'd say your life turned out okay".

His voice was hopeful, and he gave her a look of utter love. She wanted to shake him, to prove him wrong. She was finally getting used to them being her parents, finally letting them in, and then moments like this made her remember all that she'd been through.

"By four I'd broken bones six times, by ten I had scars from cigarette burns and belts, by fourteen I had a tattoo done by an unlicensed kid who claimed to be my friend". She stopped just for a second. She was hurting them, she could see that, but she had to go on. "I was sixteen when I stole a car, barely seventeen when got caught with stolen watches worth almost twenty thousand dollars. I was sent to jail right before seventeen".

Both Snow and David were listening to her now, swallowing any information she was willing to give them while fighting for tears of anger and frustration at how miserable their daughter was her whole life.

"I wasn't in jail for two weeks when I had that pregnancy test. And when it came positive, everything was ruined. I went to doctor appointments escorted by a warden, and I gave birth cuffed to a hospital bed". She took a deep breath. She was going to say that.

"Cuffed to a hospital bed, with a warden by my side and another one behind the door, instead of my mum and dad".

And like a lightning they were both by her side, holding her tight. "I'm sorry I kept that Emma," Snow whispered soothingly.

"I know," she answered, burying her head in the crook of her father's neck. "And I'm sorry I spat it all out like that".

"It okay," David said, his hand pulling her closer, "we're glad you told us your story. And we're terribly, terribly sorry that you had to go through all of this".

"It's fine. It's just, I keep thinking… If I'm so embarrassed about being in that place, what you two must think of me".

Snow smiled at her husband, and he replied with an encouraging nod, so she went on. "We're proud of you for growing into that amazing woman you are, jail or no jail involved, and we're happy for the chance you're giving us, to be there for you and for your amazing son".

Emma looked up and dramatically rolled her eyes. "Always the cheesy smarty-pants," she smiled.

"That's Mum and Dad for you," David replied with a soft chuckle.


	12. Operation Cookie

"So your mother made cookies," David said suddenly, breaking the silence. They were sitting in the dark living room, watching an old movie that was on TV. Snow was upstairs, putting Neal and Henry to bed.

"And you really think she'll let us have any? They're probably for the funfair tomorrow," Emma whispered back to him.

He turned his head to look at her, both of them sharing the same smirk. "I think she wouldn't know if two were missing," he breathed, looking back into the kitchen. "And I think I know where she hid the jar".

"We have like," she glanced at her watch for emphasis, "thirty seconds before she comes down again".

"Then I think it's Operation Cookie for us," he smiled and raised one eyebrow, as if challenging her.

"Operation cookie it is," Emma hurried. "So what's the plan?"

He got up and led her to the kitchen, tiptoeing quietly. "Can you reach the top of the fridge?"

She stood in place, folding her hands over her shoulder and giving him an annoyed look. "I thought you wanted a cookie, not a laugh at your daughter's height".

He felt his heart miss a beat, still not used to Emma acknowledging him as her father, and gave her his best Charming smile. "Fine, then I'll reach the top of the fridge to get the jar. Your job is to stand behind me and grab two cookies the exact same moment I finish to open the lid. That way I can place back there fast enough".

She nodded fiercely and took her place behind him, ready for action. David gave her a last look before he turned around and shot his hands up to reach the jar. Once grabbing it, he pulled fast, buy gently, at the lid and the jar popped open.

Emma gave him a small smile and reached inside it, grabbing two shite chocolate chip cookies, and held them in her right palm as he closed the jar and shoved it back on top of the fridge. He turned around and they fist bumped, before he went to take one cookie from her hand.

But he never made it for the cookie. They both froze at the sound of a gentle cough, one that was meant to alert them. Looking up, the found themselves staring into the eyes of an annoyed Snow.

"These aren't for you," she shook her head disapprovingly. "These are for the funfair".

She sent her hand forward, waiting for them to place the cookies on her open palm. "Now please".

Emma gave her mother the cookies still in her hand and pointed at David. "I told him they were for the funfair," she said pointedly.

"Hey!" he shouted, "what happened to Operation Cookie?"

She turned around to face him, sending him an apologizing look. "Sorry, I'd rather not be in trouble".

He shook his head, chuckling softly. "Like mother, like daughter. Can't count on you to have my back in situations like this".

"Hey!" they both shouted, Snow gently hitting him on his chest.

"What can I say, I just want my cookie," he smiled, and in a quick move he grabbed one of the cookies in Snow's hand and ran to the living room.

"Fine," Snow shouted after him, "but that's the only one you get!"

Emma looked at her mother, giving her her best puppy dog eyes. "But about me?"

"You can share".

"But he'll never give me an half after I told you it was his fault. Come on, Mum, I was on your side!"

Snow shook her head and went to grab a chair so she could reach the jar. "That should teach you not to steal my cookies".

"But Mum—"

Emma knew it was pointless, fighting with her mother never brought results. Turning back on her heals; she walked to the kitchen where her father pretended he was not listening to the conversation in the kitchen.

"Mum said we had to share this one," she said simply, sitting by his side and looking into his eyes.

"You blamed it all on me," he said with a smirk.

"And you laughed at my height. Besides, you're supposed to be the mature one," she reasoned. "Please?"

He looked at the cookie, and back at her, before breaking it in two and giving her one half.

"Yes!" she whispered loudly with a smile, "thanks dad. Operation Cookie was a blast. Totally worth it".

He smiled in her direction, taking a bite of his half cookie. "No problem princess. Just, for the next time, don't blame me. You might stay out of trouble, but your Mum will never let me off the hook".

"Fine," she said through a bite of her own, "if being a Daddy's girl will get me more cookies, I'm in".

He froze mid-bite. He was eating one of the best cookies in the world, and his daughter just referred to him as Daddy. His world was complete.


	13. Make me Smile

She didn't want to get out of bed. She didn't want to go to work. She didn't want to live this day. She wanted to sleep, to cry, to disappear. She was home alone and thank god for that. Well, no really alone, more like she was home, babysitting her baby brother. But he was asleep, so yes, she was alone.

She didn't want to give in to those feelings; she didn't want to be weak. That's why she had refused to go when her parents said they were taking Henry to the cemetery. Yes, it was a year since Neal passed away, but she couldn't just go there. Facing his grave meant facing the pain.

So at that moment, she was laying on her parents' bed, folded as tight as she could. Her eyes were closed, because she knew once she would have opened them, tears would start falling. She felt a lump in her throat, and she was fighting for breath.

She hugged her father's pillow, her nose buried in it as deep as she could manage. The bed smelled like them. She was being silly, she knew, acting like a little girl, crying in her parents' bed. But their smell, it gave her hope, confidence.

She heard a soft cry, one that wasn't hers. Looking up at the baby monitor sitting by the bed, she listened carefully. Her baby brother was waking up. She jumped out of bed and headed up the stairs in the direction of his bedroom.

"Hey, Nay-Nay, I'm right here," she whispered to him as she picked him up. Almost a year old, her brother was now able to say a few words, and Emma was proud to say her name was one of them.

"Em-ma," he said excitedly, grabbing at her hair, "Em-ma".

"Yeah, Nay-Nay, I'm right here," she said through a weak smile, wiping away the rest of her tears. She walked with him down the stairs and into the kitchen and pulled out the bowl of soup her mother left beforehand. Putting it in the microwave, she looked back at him.

"Mummy left some tasty soup for you," she cooed, "are you hungry?"

He pulled hard at her hair, making her wince and grab at his tiny hand. "Stop it baby, it hurts. Do you want some soup, instead of your big sister's hair?"

She placed him in his high chair and pulled the soup out of the microwave, making sure it was in the right temperature. She sat down in front of him and pointed a spoon in his direction. "Open your mouth, Nay-Nay".

This time her smile didn't reach her eyes. Those feelings again, those thoughts. This day was hard on her, and her brother, the only one to make her smile today, was a living reminder of the loss.

"You know," she said quietly, pointing another spoon in his direction. "You are named after a hero".

She smiled as he opened his mouth happily, drinking the soup she offered. "This man, he was your nephew's father, did you know? He was suck a brave man, always putting us all first". She stopped to take a deep breath, offering him another spoonful.

"But I didn't always think he was a hero Nay-Nay. No, at first I thought he was worthless. But he was a brave, amazing man. And a great father to your nephew. He could have been a great brother-in-law for you too, I believe. I wish you had the chance to know him, Nay-Nay, but he's now with us any-more. So you have to remember, forever, that you are named after the greatest hero this town has ever known, and that you are as awesome as he was".

Neal looked at her with bright eyes. "Em-ma," he smiled, "Em-ma".

"That's right," she smiled, "that's my name".


	14. Dad Will be Mad

"I swear Dad, it was the weirdest thing ever," she said, sitting down at the kitchen island.

"Are you saying that your two year old brother starts pushing you away the moment you got closer to the cashier?"

"Yes," she insisted, ignoring his smirk, "he pushed me and started shouting. Dada mad, Dada mad".

"Do I have a reason to be mad?" he quirked his eyebrow at her.

"Dad, he's just the cashier," she rolled her eyes.

"Well, I doubt Neal would do it for no reason. He's taking after his father," he smiled proudly at her.

"I wish his taking after his father would be in different things, and not in looking at me with a weird look whenever I make contact with a male. Seriously, Dad, it was just a cashier".

David smiled at her, pushing a steaming mug of cocoa in her direction. "Drink," he said with a nod, "will keep you warm".

She lifted an eyebrow, but took the mug in her hands. "And I would appreciate it if you taught him shouting was not polite".

Running out of the shower, Neal crushed into Emma's legs, Snow walking slowly behind him. Emma picked him up and sat him in her lap, pushing the mug away so he couldn't reach it.

"So this little one told me a story," Snow smirked at Emma. "And apparently, from what I gathered, some-one had been inappropriate with a man in the supermarket?"

Emma gaped at Snow. "You got all that from a babbling two years old boy?"

"I'm pretty good at understanding my children," Snow said proudly, folding her arms over her chest. "So?"

Emma sighed. "I had just told Dad. I was just taking my wallet out to pay for the groceries, when Nay-Nay decided it was reasonable to push me away and shout that Dada will be mad. Isn't it right kid?" She asked, poking Neal.

"Dada mad," he said pointedly. "You no do it".

"Do what?" David prompted his son. "Did your big sister do some-thing to make Daddy mad?"

"His big sister," Emma interrupted, "did nothing. So there's no reason for Daddy to be mad".

She had been dropping the Daddy every once in a while, mostly when Neal was around. And as much as they knew she did it from the same reason they referred to each other as Mummy and Daddy, her parents still froze in place and gave her a look of pride whenever they heard her say it herself.

"Emma talk man," Neal reasoned.

"You did this because I spoke to the cashier?" She asked him in a surprised voice. "Seriously Nay-Nay?"

Her brother nodded decidedly. "Dada no like," he explained.

"Oh honey, Dad doesn't like a lot of things I do," she said with a smirk.

"Emma," her mother warned before turning to her son. "Neal, baby, Daddy doesn't like it when your big sister speaks to some man, not all of them". She stopped to smirk at her husband. "It's okay for your big sister to talk to the cashier honey".

"Dada," Neal insisted, looking for his father's help.

"I'm with you on this kiddo," David smiled, then winced under his wife's angry look.

"Thanks Dad," Emma mumbled, "now he'll never stop doing that".

"Counting on it, princess".


	15. Just The Two of us

Hey everybody. A guest (or more) left some comments so I want to mention a few things.

1. There was a mistake in chapter 13, where I accidentally referred to Henry an Neal's uncle. I fixed that, so hopefully the mistake is no longer up. If you run into it, please mention to me and I'll fix it right up.

2. I'm not American, as you might have noticed in the typing and wording. i'm aware that the show is American, therefore it only makes sense for Emma to refer to her mum as Mom and not Mum. But that's how I spell, and if I'll try spelling differently I'll end up using both words, confusing them and messing with everybody's heads. If it bothers you, I'm really sorry. But please bear with me here, and try to understand that I am already trying my best to make it sound American.

Thank you for your reviews and follows, and I hope you enjoy his one-shot as well! :)

* * *

"Emma, are you sure you'll be okay with him for the hour?"

Emma looked up at her father with a death glare. "Seriously, ask me one more time, I challenge you".

He rolled his eyes and gave her a small smile. "Okay, I get the message. We'll be back as soon as we can".

"No, you won't," she pressed. "You'll be nice and spend an hour with poor Ruby. The girl broke her leg; I think an hour with her is mandatory. I'll be fine. We'll be fine".

"I left a bowl of soup for Neal in the fridge, and there's chicken there for you. Oh, and some pasta. Please make sure you both eat," her mother shouted, already heading out the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Emma replied with a roll of her eyes. "Eat, sleep, and stay out of trouble. I'm a thirty year old woman with her own twelve year old child. I think I'll manage babysitting my eighteen months old brother".

David bent down, kissing Emma's forehead. Turning around, he gave Neal a smile. 'Be good for your big sister, yeah?" he warned. The boy, who was sitting on the floor and playing with his toy dragon, smiled at his father. David kissed his forehead, and went to leave the house and follow his wife.

Emma watched her parents leave, rolling her eyes when she heard the door locking. Count on her parents to lock the door so they'd be safe. She turned her head over to Neal, kneeling next to him.

"Guess it's just the two of us now, Nay-Nay," she said, grabbing at a toy prince.

"Boo," Neal exclaimed, crashing his dragon into the Prince in Emma's hands.

"Oh, no, I don't think so," she smirked, crushing the prince into the dragon softly. "The prince wins, not the dragon".

"Dada," Neal smiled, pointing at the prince.

"Oh, so Dad is this prince? Then he _must_ win!"

After a few crushes, Neal dropped the dragon, obviously losing interest in their game. "I win," she laughed, throwing the prince away and picking Neal up, tickling his sides. He started to laugh lightly, squirming in her hands.

She gave a small laugh, leaving him be. Neal sat by her side on the floor, giving her a serious look. "Story?" he demanded, more than asked.

"You want me to read you story?" she asked him, one eyebrow raised in question.

He nodded, pointing to Henry's story book resting on her parents' bedside table. "So, you know what you say when you want something?"

Neal stopped to think before he rose up to his feet. He walked the two step distance between them and shoved his face as close to hers as he could, their noses almost touching. "Pease?"

Laughing out loud, she got an inch closer, bumping their noses together. "That's right, kiddo, please. Where do you want to sit for the story?"

Neal glanced behind his shoulder, looking at their parents' bed. "The bed?" she asked softly.

He nodded, and she picked him up, grabbing the book on her way to the bed. She placed her brother in her mother's side of the bed, pulling the blankets to tuck him in. "Now sit comfortably and we can start".

Getting into her father's side of the bed, she got closer to him, pulling her hand over his shoulder. "Which story do you want Nay-Nay?"

Neal gave her a pointed look. She knew exactly what he wanted to hear, always the same story.

"Mama, Dada," he started.

"Mum and Dad are almost in every story," she pointed, "you'll have to be more specific.

"Le-La," he said with a nod.

"Leia?" she questioned with a smirk. Of course, always the same story.

"Le-La," he repeated with a nod.

"When Mum and Dad met for the first time, is that what you want? With Princess Leia?"

This time he just nodded, cuddling into her side. So she opened the book, going through the pages until she found the right story. She took a deep breath, and opened her mouth to start.

* * *

David walked into the flat, his wife in his toes. It was too quiet for his liking and he was just starting to panic, when he heard his wife gasp.

"Oh," she whispered in a touched voice.

He looked back, then followed her gaze to find his two children, fast asleep on their bed.

He walked closer to the bed, bending down to press a kiss on his daughter's forehead, then moved to press a kiss to his son's. But, unfortunately, Emma stirred.

"Oh, you're back," she whispered softly. Feeling the pressure on her side, she looked down to find her brother sleeping. "Guess we fell asleep".


	16. Please Don't Ever Leave Me

_Her mind was empty. Nothing went through. She was staring into the fir, face still wet from the tears she spilled earlier. It was dark, and she was all by herself. She had no idea where everybody had gone and she didn't really care at that moment. There was no reason to live now, hell she was probably going to fade anyways now, that her mother had died._

_Tears were taking over her again. It was useless to fight them, she knew. And they came in a heavy stream. She cried like she hadn't cried for so long. Like a little girl. She actually felt like a little girl. She lost her mother, and the little girl in her fought her grown up self, because she wanted to shout and scream. She wanted the world to know that it wasn't fair._

_"Mum," she whimpered, really giving in to her tears. "Mum, Mum"._

_She was getting hysterical, she knew, but she couldn't help it. "Please, it's not fair," she screamed, falling to her knees, "please, Mama"._

* * *

"Emma, honey," she heard. Someone was shaking her gently. "Emma, wake up".

She slowly opened her eyes. It took her a few seconds to understand she was back at home, in her own bed. Blinking tiredly, she noticed a blurry figure in front of her.

"Here honey," her mother said, and she could see her glasses coming closer. Reaching forward, she took them slowly from her mother's hands and placed them on her nose.

"Thanks," she mumbled, still shaken from the dream.

Her mother gave her a smile, sending her hand to move some hair from her daughter's eyes. "You were screaming for me," she mentioned quietly.

Emma thought back, her nightmare slowly coming back to her. She winced, searching for her mother's eyes.

"Was I screaming?" she asked, blushing.

"Yeah. You were crying for help. Said it wasn't fair, screaming for me".

"Sorry," Emma whispered, "did I wake you?"

Her mother shook her head. "It's not a problem honey. How can I sleep if one of my babies is shouting for their Mama?"

Emma ducked her head in embarrassment. "I said that?" she said, squinting her eyes, pressing her lips together.

"Yes," her mother nodded, "along some other names".

The smile on her face was a mix of proud and worried, Emma understood. She slowly raised up from her bed and pulled her mother in for a hug.

"I was reliving the past," she whispered into her mother's shoulder' "your past, I mean. You burnt".

Snow nodded slowly. "I'm okay honey, I'm right here with you".

"But you didn't come back there. You just, died, and, that's it".

"I know baby," Snow whispered. "But I'm here now. It was just a dream. I'm okay".

Emma gave a shaky, humourless laugh, then backed away and looked into her mother's eyes. Snow reached to take Emma's glasses off and clean them from the tear stains, before she placed them back on her daughter's nose.

"Just don't leave me again," Emma whispered.

"Never, honey. Mama's never leaving you again".


	17. Lost His MInd

I have to be honest, I don't really like what came out of this. But it was requested by an anon, and I hope they like it.

* * *

Emma entered the flat and walked straight to her parent's bed, falling on it, head first. She groaned in frustration, her hands holding her head as she slowly breathed in.

"Emma?" Snow said, coming out of the laundry room with a full basket and resting it on the bed. "Is everything okay?

She bent down to pick a shirt up from the pile and started folding it when Emma groaned again, loudly this time. "Emma?"

Emma raised her head just enough to look at her mother, before it hit the bed once again. "I think he lost it," she mumble, her voice muffled by the mattress.

"Who did?"

"Your _husband_," Emma spat. "Lost his mind".

"Your _father_," Snow repeated, emphasising the word.

"Yeah, whatever. Lost his damn mind".

"Emma!" Snow exclaimed. "Why would you say that? Where is he?"

"He's on his way," Emma said, walking to the mirror. "I walked fast to outrun him, Been lecturing me for the past twenty minutes".

She pressed her face to the mirror, her hands rising to her eyes to pull the contact lenses out. She felt her mother's eyes on her back. Of course Snow knew something was up. Something was always up when Emma gave up on her contact lenses. It usually meant she was feeling sick, or that she's been through so much that her eyes ached.

"What happened?" Snow raised an eyebrow, not sure she wanted the answer to her question. She watched as Emma backed away from the mirror and felt her way to the kitchen island where her glasses were left in the morning.

But Emma made no move to answer her mother. She placed the glasses slowly on her nose and walked to where the cereal box was standing, grabbing it along with a bowl and a spoon.

"Emma," Snow prompted. Now she was utterly curious.

Just as Emma opened the fridge to get out the carton of milk, David walked into the flat, his hands folded over his chest. He nodded in Snow's direction, as if saying hello, before turning back to face his daughter.

"We're not done," he stated.

Emma turned around and gave him a pleading look. "I got it Dad, I swear. No need to talk about it anymore".

"David?" Snow said from the bedroom. "Care to tell me what happened?"

David turned to his wife's direction and gave a dramatic sigh. "Your _daughter_ decided that it was reasonable not to listen to what I specifically asked her to do and go out running after this woman who's been following her around".

"She's been freezing things! I'm not going to sit in the station while everybody else chases her!"

Snow gave Emma a look, but the girl was finding her cereal more interesting.

"Yes, but she was also after you for more than once, the reasonable thing for you to do was to wait in the station," David insisted.

"No, Dad, it wasn't. Mum, please, just tell him".

Snow shook her head, picking another shirt from the pile. "No, Emma, that's between you and your father. If he told you to stay put, that's what you were supposed to do".

Emma sighed deeply, taking another bite. _Were they seriously lecturing her? She was thirty one; she could take care of herself damn well._ She gave her father a look, seeing in his eyes that she wasn't going to win this fight.

"Will you stop lecturing me if I told you I was sorry?" she asked him sharply.

"I would stop lecturing you when I thought you understood what you did wrong".

"But that's the thing; I do know what I did wrong – well wrong in your opinion anyways. So there you go, you can stop now".

David walked closer to his daughter, waiting until she put the spoon down. Once she did, his right hand grabbed at her chin and he raised her head so she looked straight into his eyes. In return, she gave him a confused look.

"I don't want you to get hurt Emma. And if that means that you have to stay in the station while I go chasing a woman that's after you, it means that that's what's going to happen. Now, do you understand that?"

Tired of fighting with her father, Emma gave a small nod. "Good," he breathed, then pulled her into a hug.

She leaned in for a few seconds before she let out a small chuckle. "Dad, my cereal is getting mushy".


	18. Boundaries

Okay so this is crap. I don't like it all. but It was a prompt, and I hadn't written in a long time (which by the way I'm really sorry about but I was out of the country).

She'd been practicing magic for long now. She didn't have Regina's help anymore, the poor woman too hurt by Emma's previous actions to be any help. But she didn't allow herself to give up. She just started practicing alone.

At first it was easy. She kept to what she already knew how to do, creating fireballs and lighting candles, perfecting her skill until there was no point in practicing it anymore. That was when she started practicing foreign skills.

So it was not a surprise to her that at first try she couldn't make the dishes wash themselves. She was aware of it being a weird skill to practice, but she was home with a high pile of dishes, and she was sure her mother would be thrilled to find them washed when she came home.

But instead of them washing themselves, the just flew to the sink and rested there. And Emma started to feel the pressure of doing magic. Her shoulders started to feel heavy, her eyes couldn't stay focused. Yet she tried again.

And again, and again, and again.

She blinked her eyes open, waking up to sound of her mother's worried voice calling her name. Confused as to what had happened, she tried getting up, realizing she was lying on her parents' sofa.

"Don't get up Emma, you've fainted and I'm not sure you're completely fine now," Snow warned.

Fainted? "What happened?"

"You're the one who should tell us that Emma, we found you like on the floor when we got home". Her father. That was not good.

"I just," she started, still confused. "The last thing I remember is practicing some magic".

Her head was pouncing, her eyes burnt, and she needed a cup of water. But she didn't have the time to mention any of those. Her father was already handing her a glass full of water, and a pill for her headache. Her mother was adjusting a blanket over her, pug her hand over Emma's forehead.

"You have no fever," she said, relieved, "but I think it's best if you stayed in bed for a while".

"And if you didn't practice magic for the day," her dad added.

They were way overreacting, way over protective. But they were parents, and she loved them for being so.


	19. Kiss it Better

**Kiss it Better**

_At the bottom of every frozen heart there is a drop or two of love –Henry Miller._

They placed Emma on their bed carefully, and there she laid, her eyes open but cold and empty. Charming gave a last glance at her before he turned around to face his wife, who was staring at their frozen daughter with so much pain in her eyes he wanted to cry.

"It's going to be okay, Snow," he tried to reassure, his right hand squeezing her shoulder. But he was starting to have doubts as well, as much as he didn't like it.

"I hope," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"It is," he repeated, more to reassure himself then her. "We're not going to let it not be okay".

He turned back to look at his daughter once again, his hand dropping to his side as his wife shrugged it off her shoulder. He heard her walking away but his eyes were fixed on his daughter's bright eyes. He longed for her to blink, just one blink. He pictured her getting up from the bed, shaking off the ice remains before complaining that he was _obviously, completely, overreacting_.

Snow was back by his side then, a blanket in her arms. "Maybe it will help at least with getting her body temperature under control," she mused.

He shrugged, watching as she carefully walked forward and put the blanket carefully around their frozen daughter, tucking her in like only a mother would. "Snow, leave her be," he whispered. He wasn't sure why they were keeping quiet. _It's not like she'd wake up_, a voice inside him pointed.

"She's frozen, Charming. My baby is frozen and there's nothing I can do," she finally broke, reaching to him and burying her face in his chest. He let his arms go around her body, holding her close and fighting tears of his own. He couldn't let that ice witch win.

"There's a solution to everything," he exclaimed, "and we will find it. We always find it".

"What if we won't?" Snow let out a soft cry, "I can't lose her again".

He shook his head so hard he got dizzy. He was not going to lose his daughter. That was not an option. "Every curse can be broken," he pointed out, the solution suddenly very clear in his mind.

"You don't know that it's a curse," she replied.

"But you also don't know it isn't".

He let go of his crying wife and walked closer to their bed, where their daughter was still staring at thin air. Motioning for his wife to follow his lead, he gently bent down until his lips were millimeters away from her cold forehead.

Without hesitating, Snow walked to the other side of the bed. Her right hand reaching to grab at his left, she bent down as well, and together, like they were one, their lips pressed to her forehead in a loving kiss.

He could feel the warmth leaving his mouth and spreading around the room, Emma's forehead feeling warmer under his lips. He realized he was holding his breath, letting it out only when he felt the woman on the bed stir.

With a light squeeze at his wife's hand, he pulled back just when she did, and together they watched as Emma blessedly blinked her eyes once before frowning.

"Mum? Dad?" she asked, confused, as she watched both her parents looking at her like she was god.

"Oh Emma," Snow breathed, happy tears streaming down her face. She jumped into bed and attacked her confused daughter with a hug and a kiss on her cheek.

"Mum, you're obviously, completely, overreacting," Emma complained, laughing lightly as she felt the pressure as her father joined in for the family sandwich. Charming gave out a relived laugh.

"Oh princess, if you only knew".


	20. Cold

_I got a request from Kaijacharming for Charming taking care of his daughter after she gets sick. I put it together with the ice cave and that's what came out of it. **I'm running out of requests by the way, so if anyone here has any, just tell me!**_

* * *

She woke up, disturbed by a coughing fit. She sat up, confused, trying to calm herself down. Her throat was on fire and she wanted to cry out in pain but the only thing to come out was a shaky breath. She lost her voice over night.

She tried talking again, refusing to accept the fact that something was wrong with her throat. The breath that came out of her mouth turned into a second coughing fit during which she choked and stopped breathing properly. And that was when she knew she had a serious problem. Not having an asthma attack since she was eight, Emma eventually stopped going to the doctor's office for a new inhaler to keep at hand, but she could already feel her chest tightening, her lungs wheezing.

She stumbled down the stairs. She needed fresh air before it turned into a hospital situation. Her short breaths were already causing a headache and her throat was still on fire as she quietly walked to the big window by her parents' bed, careful not to wake both her parents and her baby brother. Thank god Henry was fast asleep upstairs.

It was a great effort to breath, and she closed her eyes, already feeling dizzy. She was going to have to wake up one of her parents. She was going to have to go to the hospital. Well, crap.

"Emma?"

Her father's worried voice brought her back to reality. She blinked heavily in his direction, begging with only her eyes that he will understand.

"Emma, do you have asthma?" he asked sharply, already shaking his wife awake. Emma in return nodded in his direction.

She watched the fear spread in his eyes and in mere seconds he was dressed, mumbling to snow that they were going to the hospital and that he will stay in touch. There was no time to argue. They were out the door like a light.

Her father opened the door for her and she slid into the car, instantly reaching to open the window. She wanted to whisper an explanation, maybe even a simple 'thank you'.

"Breathe Emma, please," he begged, and it occurred to her that he sounded as scared as he was that morning, when she was freezing to death.

She focused on breathing, thinking of all the old tricks and tips she got from random doctors when she had to go to the hospital after a foster family didn't care enough to get her an inhaler. But focusing on breathing wasn't enough and the next thing she knew everything was turning black as her father called her name.

* * *

She blinked her eyes open, adjusting to the bright white light. She tried to remember where she was, vaguely remembering an asthma attack, before her father's face appeared in front of hers.

"Can you breath properly?" he asked.

She nodded and opened her mouth to speak, wincing at the croaked voice. "What's going on?"

Her father sighed. "You caught a really bad cold in the goddamned ice cave. You had a really high fever last night when we got here and you were unconscious because of the asthma attack. Doctor Whale said we're going to be able to go home in a few hours, but you're going to get a week off-duty, a hell lot of pills and a new inhaler. Oh Emma, why didn't you tell me you were feeling sick? Why didn't you tell us you used to have asthma?"

"We've been here for the whole night?" Emma asked, ignoring her father's questions. "What about Henry? And Mum and Neal?"

Her father gave her a reassuring smile and handed her a plastic cup full of water. She took it gratefully, still waiting for an answer.

"I called your mother. She's at home with Neal and Henry, probably waiting by the phone. We've had quite the night and I'm pretty sure she's still worried sick".

Emma raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What happened?" she whispered, her throat aching again.

He sat on the edge of her bed. "They gave you some Ventolin, along with fever reducers and pain killers and it worked well for two hours or so. But then your fever went dangerously high and you started coughing and choking again. You were having a lot of trouble breathing and—"

"I'm sorry," she cut him.

"Emma," he said sternly, "I'm the one who's sorry. For not saving you faster and for letting you catch a cold like that. And it's probably my genetics to blame for your asthma as well".

She chuckled slightly, moving so he had more space to sit. "Dad, you saved my life. Cold or no cold, I'm still here thanks to you. And it's not the first time I'm fainting because of an asthma attack. I've had worse. I'm just very thankful you woke up".

"We're going to keep an extra inhaled at home," he warned her. "And I'm going to make sure you have yours with you wherever you go, so no cheating, do you understand?! And you're going to stay at home until your mother and I decide that you're fit to work".

She let our a groan. "Dad, you're overreacting".

"Emma," he insisted, "you almost died three times in the last twenty four hours. I'm your father, and I'm allowed to overreact". He gave her his charming smile, earning himself a roll of the eyes.

"You're unbelievable," she shook her head. She picked up her phone and smiled at him. "I should probably call Mum".

"Make sure she understands that you're really fine or else my threats will be sunshine and unicorns compared to hers".

* * *

**Tell me what you think?**


	21. Just Another Third

_Alright. So I know I have a request for a follow up for the last chapter, but I had a hard time writing it, and then this prompt came up. So there you go. Emma's six months pregnant, and Charming gets over protective._

* * *

Emma Swan hated being pregnant. She hated waking up needing to vomit all of her insides. She hated weird cravings. She hated it all. Well, almost all.

She was sitting in her parents' living room, her legs up on the table and a fan working just in front of her. God, why did it have to be so warm? Her hand was forming circled on her tummy, whispering soothing words. Her beautiful baby was performing a circus inside there, she was quite sure, and even though at first she quite enjoyed it, now it was just getting painful.

"Everything okay?" she heard her father say behind here, practically hearing his smirk.

"A cup of coffee. Can you make that happen?" she asked quietly, begging silently for him to say yes.

"You know I can't do such a thing. You're mother threatened my life".

She really wanted a cup of coffee. She'd been craving it for six months now, and she was pretty sure that between her husband, son and parents, her father was probably the safest bet.

"Please Daddy?" she asked, deciding to pull the big guns. It was maybe years after they'd discovered each other, but she still had her father wrapped around her little finger.

"Not fair," he said, folding his arms. "You know if I make that cup of coffee she'll ban me from seeing the future grandchild".

"Well, she's got no say in it," Emma replied, offering him a seat by her side.

David nodded thankfully, sitting by his daughter. "I'm not giving you coffee, Emma. Sorry".

"Fine," she answered through a pout. "But if the baby comes out with a coffee shaped birthmark, it's going to be your fault".

"I think I can deal with that," he laughed, his arm wrapping around her shoulder, pulling her closer.

"Okay," she said after a few quiet moments. "Seeing as I'm not going to get that cup of coffee, I think I'll go make myself a sandwich".

"Oh, you're hungry?" he asked, already getting up, "I can make it for you".

Emma sighed, looking up to where her father was now standing. "I'm pregnant Dad, not disabled. I can make my own sandwich".

"Don't be ridiculous Emma. Can't a man spoil his pregnant daughter?"

"You're just worried I'll fall or burn myself," she said, biting her bottom lip. She liked to tease him about it, but deep down she was grateful. As much as she didn't like to admit it, having a husband, an older son, a little brother and two parents was definitely better than a jail cell to keep her company for nine months.

"Come on, Princess. Just tell me what you want in it".

"Peanut butter and jelly please," she smiled. "And cut the crusts out, please?"

"Anything for you," he bowed slightly with a wicked smile. "Your Highness".

He turned around and walked into the kitchen, laughing as he heard her groan in frustration. Oh how he loved those relaxed moments with his daughter, when they were both just being themselves. It took them so long to get there, and he was just so happy.

He was halfway through making the sandwich when he heard her mumble something from the living room. Knowing it was meant for him, he placed the knife on the counter and turned around.

"What's that Emma?"

"Can you skip the jelly and just make it peanut butter? Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"No worries Princess," he laughed, closing the jelly jar and placing it back in the cabinet. He placed the already made peanut butter bread over another one, putting it on a plate. "Do you want some tea as well?"

"With cinnamon?" She asked hopefully, sounding so young in his ears.

"Of course," he promised, pressing the kettle on and taking out a mug and a decaffeinated tea bag. He opened the freezer, looking for the cinnamon sticks his wife bought the day before, taking them out and placing one in the still empty mug.

From the living room he could hear Emma starting to whisper soothing words again. He smiled to himself as he poured the steaming water into the mug and walked to the living room. "Is the baby kicking again?"

"Oh god," Emma breathed. "You have no idea. It's starting to really hurt now. I mean seriously, baby, do you have to kick the same spot all the time?" She pointed at her belly button, frowning slightly.

"Oh Princess, once you have to deal with crying at night, you're going to wish it had stopped with kicking," he smiled his Charming smile, gaining himself a roll of the eyes from her.

"Well, what do you think grandparents are for?" she giggled, leaning against him once he sat by her side again. "Thanks for the food by the way".

"Of course honey. What do you think parents are for?" He answered with a wink.

"Sometimes I wonder if you've made it your life mission to make sure your name suits you. I mean, seriously, Dad, that was such a Prince Charming thing of you to say".

"Oh honey, one day you'll realize that my life mission is simply make you smile. Whether it means I tell lame Dad jokes or give you my best charming pep talks".

He pulled her closer, kissing the side of her head. Looking up, she gave him a soft smile, closing her eyes and snuggling closer.

Yes, Emma Swan hated being pregnant. But one look at what she had now – her beautiful boy, her beloved husband, her wonderful baby brother and her amazing parents – was just enough for her. She knew this baby was going to come to a world full of love and support, and it didn't matter how she hated being pregnant. She already loved this baby so much, and with all the people around her who already loved it as well, Emma Swan knew it was going to be just perfect. And it was just three months and a week away.

* * *

_**Drop a prompt or tell me what you think?**_


	22. Sneeze

Hi guys. As promised, this is a short sequel to chapter 20 (_Cold_), as requested by anon.

* * *

"Bless you," Snow and Charming said in unison, one from near Neal's cot, the other from the kitchen.

"Thank you," Emma answered, blowing her nose.

"Do you breathe fine?" Snow asked, placing Neal back in his cot after helping him to sleep and walking into the living room to where her daughter was sitting under five blankets.

"Yeah Mum. I can breathe just fine. And just in case I don't, I have about ten thousand inhalers around this house".

Snow rolled her eyes at her daughter, picking the thermometer up from the coffee table and giving it to Emma. "Let's see if it went down".

Emma groaned, taking the thermometer from her mother's hands and putting it in her mouth. "You're overreacting," she said through the thermometer.

"Emma, keep your mouth shut for the thermometer to work properly," Snow warned. "And how exactly am I overreacting?"

Emma motioned to the thermometer in her mouth, giving her mother her best glare. She waited impatiently for the thermometer to beep, opening her mouth to speak the moment it did. "I just caught a little cold because of the ice cave. And now you have me staying at home for a week, going all overprotective on me".

Snow glanced at the thermometer, smiling softly at the number indicating her daughter didn't have a fever anymore, before looking up at her daughter with an angry look. "You didn't catch a little cold Emma, you caught a serious one. And to top it all you had a bad asthma attack and ended up in a hospital".

"Dad, will you help me out here?" Emma called, looking over at the kitchen where David was preparing dinner.

"Sorry Princess, I'm with your mother on this one. You're staying home where you can be under our watch. We don't want to find ourselves in a hospital again because you didn't notice you have a high fever or because you passed out while having an asthma attack".

Emma bit her lip, preventing herself from saying that she was capable of taking care of herself. She hated feeling so vulnerable, but her parents had a point. She didn't care enough to pay attention to her fever, and she certainly didn't feel safe to be alone facing the danger of having another serious asthma attack.

"But do you really have to check my fever every thirty minutes?" She said. _No,_ she told herself, _she whined. Like a teenager, oh god._

"Yes, I do. And I also have to keep asking you if you can breathe properly so don't even bother asking".

Wanting to say something in answer to her mother Emma opened her mouth. But instead she was caught up in a coughing fit.

"Breathe Emma, please," she heard her mother saying. And god, did she try.

Finally, she relaxed, gaining back the ability to breathe normally. And one look at her parents made her ache inside. They both looked at her with worried eyes, her mother ready with an inhaler, her father holding a glass full of water.

"I'm fine, guys, I promise. Thank you".

At that David walked back to the kitchen. "Your soup is ready Emma," he said, already preparing to bring her a bowl.

"Okay, I'm coming, just leave it on the kitchen island," she replied, shaking off the blankets.

Snow gave her daughter a concerned look. "Are you sure you can eat there? We don't want you to be cold or uncomfortable".

Emma sighed, taking her mother's hand in hers and leading her to the kitchen island. "I wasn't lying when I said I'm fine. I want to eat with you guys, and I'm not even cold anymore".

"Well," David laughed from the kitchen, "I'd say that's because your mother put the heat on as high as it goes".

He placed the bowls on the kitchen island, ignoring the look he knew his wife was sending his way. "Come on Snow, Emma. We don't want the soup to get cold".


	23. Even Princes Hate the Darkness

Emma Swan walked into her little brother's room, where she could see him sitting on his bed, his tiny hands wrapped around the broken night light. She sat by his side, her arm automatically pulling his closer. Usually he'd complain – _You're always doing it, like Daddy. It's annoying_ – but this time he said nothing.

"What's wrong Nay-Nay?" she asked softly, looking at the six year old boy with asking eyes.

He didn't even look up. His grip around the night light tightened and he shook his head. "I know Mummy called you because I didn't want to talk to her. But I also don't want to talk to you".

"Mummy called me because she thought I could help Nay-Nay. And maybe, if you told me what happened, I would".

She watched as he struggled for a few seconds, considering if he should tell her. "Didn't she tell you?" he asked finally.

Emma shook her head slowly. "She said you shouted at her that you can't go to sleep and then slammed the door in her face when she tried to come in. And then you shouted at Daddy over the phone as well, didn't you?"

"Yes, because they can't help," he exclaimed, throwing the lamp over his head, wincing as it hit the floor with a slam.

"Do you want to tell me?" Emma tried again.

"I…"

"Come on Nay-Nay," she encouraged, her hand squeezing his shoulder.

"I tried to put the night light in its socket, but then Mummy called me and I got dist—Distarced—Dis…"

"Distracted," she helped out with a smile.

"Yes. And magic exploded out of my hands and the night light broke, and now I can't go to sleep".

"Because it's dark when you turn off the light," Emma said in an understanding voice. "You know you could tell Mummy that that's what got you upset."

"But I did it with magic, so she can't fix it. And Daddy was with you in the station. And Mummy would think I was a little boy because I am afraid of the darkness".

"Oh no," Emma said, "Mummy would never think that! You know, when I was your age I was afraid of the dark as well. But you have Mummy here, and she'll never let you be afraid. She'd stay here with you if you only asked".

"You think?" Neal asked, surprised.

"Oh no, Nay-Nay. I don't think – I know. But never mind, now that I'm here, do you want me to fix it?"

Neal got up and turned to pick the lamp from the floor, giving it to Emma. "Can you do that?"

Emma chuckled at his wide eyes and took the lamp from his hands. "Of course honey," she promised, her hand raising. She concentrated, feeling the warmth spread in her body, and let go. A soft, white light left her palm and landed on the night light.

"There you go," she said, turning it on. "Now you can go to sleep. But maybe you should go first to Mummy, tell her that you're sorry for shouting at her?"

Neal nodded, and turned to run outside, crushing into Emma on his way. "Thanks Emma," he said, giving her a tight hug.

"No problem kiddo," she smiled.


	24. Over-Protective Dad Speech

"Good morning," Emma whispered, sitting by the kitchen table, where her father was already seated. "Where's everybody?"

"Your mother took Neal to the park and Henry went over to Regina's," David said, his face much too serious for Emma's liking, as he pushed a steaming mug in her direction. "How did you sleep?"

She nodded, as if to say she slept well, and took a sip from the fresh coffee. "What about you?"

She knew it was a bad question the moment it left her mouth. She watched as David took a deep breath and adjusted in his seat. "I didn't sleep much," he replied slowly.

Trying to seem nonchalant, she gave out a whimper that was meant to sound like an 'oh'. He nodded in her direction before lowering his eyes to his mug. She hoped it was it, but after a few seconds he looked up again, straight into her eyes.

"Over protective Dad speech," he said, forming it like a question.

She placed the mug on the table and sighed. "It's like a switch, and you turn it on every once in a while".

"But you called me David again".

_Was he hurt?_ "I just tried to make sure you knew there was no need for an over protective Dad speech".

"And I thought we were past that phase. _I am_ your father. It seems right of me to give him the Dad speech".

"The _over-protective_ Dad speech," she emphasized. "I'm thirty one Dad. Not a kid anymore".

He gave her a charming smile, his signature smile, and she melted inside. He loved her, he really did, and he was just acting his part yesterday. "You're still my kid," he bit back, shrugging his shoulders. "I would have let you get out like that whether you called me David or anything else. I just had to make sure Hook knew what I was expecting of him before you left".

"What you expected of him?" she repeated, confused.

David smiled at her, his right hand reaching to cup her right hand. "To treat my little girl like the princess she is".

Emma chuckled at that. Of course he did. "He treated me just fine Dad, I promise".

"Good," David stated, ending the discussion.

They stayed like that for a few moments before he opened his mouth again. "You were beautiful yesterday, kiddo".

She knew she was blushing. "Thanks. And…"

He looked up into her eyes in such anticipation. She breathed in, then went on. "I'm sorry I called you David yesterday. You're my Dad, I know that now and I'm not going to give up on having the right to call an amazing person like you my dad".


	25. It Gets Better

**A twelve year old Emma is transported to Storybrooke**

* * *

Snow was curled up in her bed, hugging a pillow. She really had to get up. She had to feed Neal in just ten minutes again and they still had to find that Snow Queen. But it was all just too much, too hard. The past day's events were still running around in her head and she was having a really hard time letting it go. She had a great time. A wonderful time, really. But she just wanted more.

She could feel the bed moving as someone – she knew exactly who – climbed in. But she wasn't ready to face reality yet. She was holding her breath, she knew that, and she didn't let go until she heard a small, shy voice behind her.

"Mum?"

Snow forced her eyes open but didn't turn around to face her daughter. She let out a heavy breath, She wasn't supposed to be like that. Her daughter was right there so why was it so hard.

"Mum? Please," she heard Emma beg. And what kind of mother let her daughter beg with no reason? She slowly turned around, only to face her teary daughter.

"I'm so, so sorry, Mama," Emma broke down, and suddenly, Snow knew.

* * *

"Let's go over this again. I'm supposed to believe that my foster mother is some crazy psycho witch that had just transported me here to the future to meet my grown up self, who is a princess and, apparently, had found my parents, who are my grown up version's same age, and are none other than Snow White and Price Charming?"

"We'', his real name is David," Emma shrugged at her younger self. "Look, I know it sounds crazy as hell, I've been in your place two years ago".

"All right," younger Emma exclaimed. "But if you want me to go with it you're going to have to prove it to me. Prove that you're me".

Thankful for the fact that they were in the station, Emma got up and walked to where her personal box rested. While grabbing at it, she told Emma all about her adventure with a girl named Lilly, something she knew for a fact was still fresh in young Emma's memory. She pulled out items one after the other, presenting her younger self with her baby blanket, the old video camera and the pair of worn glasses.

"Fine," the twelve year old huffed, "I'll play along".

Emma sighed in relief. She had already called David to make sure Henry was at Regina's – because, really, she didn't want to know of the paradoxes their meeting would cause – and she really hoped her younger self would agree to play along. Because they really needed to go to a safer place and think of a plan.

"Good, so we can go home. But first I think I should tell you a few stuff," she said, sitting back down. "They're going to ask a lot of questions and be super overwhelming. I know that you're going to have a hard time meeting them, but you can trust me when I say you can trust them. It takes time to get used to it, hell, I'm not sure I'm used to it yet, so just… Tell me if it gets too much yeah?"

Young Emma nodded hesitantly, and Emma could feel the young girl's anxiety building. She knew herself in situation like this, and she was prepared for a lot of awkwardness. She walked out the station, closing the door behind them both and leading her younger self to the yellow bug.

"You're going to witness a lot of surprising things in the next few hours. Some you're going to feel embarrassed by, some you're probably going to love. Just remember that even though you're going to have to go back to the system eventually today or in the next few days, it's all going to get better".

* * *

Emma climbed the stairs to the flat, her younger self walking quietly behind her. She turned around to give the girl a last reassuring smile before she pushed the key in its place and opened the door. She prepared to shout a 'we're home', but they didn't even make it into the flat before Sow appeared in front of them, a worried expression on her face. Emma noticed her younger self wincing and taking a small step backwards.

"You need to be gentle with her," Emma whispered, Snow completely ignoring her, examining her from head to toe.

"You're both fine yeah? She didn't do anything?"

"We're good," Emma waved at her before turning to her younger self. "I know it's a little bit overwhelming but she means well", she said, eyeing her mother. "Go sit and I'll make us some—"

But she had no chance to finish her sentence. David was already there, handing her a mug of steaming hot cocoa with cinnamon and leading her to the sofa, handing her younger self a mug as well.

"Cinnamon?" younger Emma asked in disbelief, her eyes wide.

"Always," David replied with a cheeky smile, sitting in front of both girls and motioning for Snow to join him.

Emma looked at her parents, bubbling with curiosity. Embracing herself for what was going to come, she gave her younger self another good thing to remember.

"How about a pop-tart with that?" she asked; chucking at the very familiar eager nod her younger self gave her.

"Emma," Snow said in a stern voice, "I think it's a better idea if I make us all some dinner, no?"

"Mum," Emma sighed, trying her best to ignore her younger self's yelp of surprise. And oh, did she remember that feeling. That longing to be able to finally say those two little words every other kid she knew took for granted. Mum and Dad.

"Snow I think we've all had a long enough day to justify a pop-tart before dinner," David said quietly, smiling at young Emma with eyes full of emotions.

"Fine, fine," Snow laughed, shooting her hands in the air in defeat. "But don't get full; I'm planning on pasta and chicken". She gave both girls a knowing smile. They're favourite.

"Count me in as well princess," David called as Emma got up and walked to the kitchen. Her blush didn't go unnoticed, but he had decided he'd use her nickname in order so it was easier to understand which of his girl's versions he was talking to. After all, that was the easiest way. He turned to younger Emma, speaking softly. "How old are you?"

In the kitchen, Emma bit her lip. Her parents were dying to hug the little girl, kiss her head and call her sweetheart. But they were holding back, remembering the walls their daughter used to have.

"I'm twelve," younger Emma answered, now with more confidence.

"And do you know how you got here?"

"Way to be gentle Dad," Emma groaned as she walked into the living room again, handing both her father and her younger self a plate. "She has no idea what happened. And I was actually planning on us going after the snow queen again after we ate something".

"No way," Snow and David said in unison.

Emma rolled her eyes, looking at her younger self's surprised face. "You get used to that eventually," she smiled, before turning back to her parents. "I'm a grown up".

David crossed his arms over his chest with a disapproving look. "But you also have the responsibility over your twelve year old self. And it doesn't matter. I said no, and no means no. You're not going anywhere. Got it?"

"Dad," Emma sighed, "we need to find a way to send her back to her proper time before it creates a paradox".

"And we'll find another way," David nodded. "We'll use Regina's help, or Gold's, or, I don't care. I'm not sending two of you to handle that witch, princess".

At that same moment Neal chose to wake up, sending Snow up to get him and younger Emma to look at her grown up self with a questioning look.

"Our brother," Emma answered the unspoken question with loving eyes. She turned back to David with a defeated look. "We'll stay," she said with a smirk. "but you are sneaking us both another pop-tart before Mum comes back".

"Deal," David smirked, getting up to sneak up to the kitchen.

* * *

"Emma, there's nothing to be sorry about honey".

But Emma was stubborn. She shook her head, wiping at her tears. "You saw what you lost, and then I took her to Regina and ruined everything. I should have let her stay and leave myself. You should have had her here now, not me".

Snow smiled at her beautiful daughter, understanding that nothing, in fact, was ruined. Her hand rose to Emma's cheek and she pressed a gently kiss to her daughter's forehead.

"Oh, baby, don't you see? You gave me the chance to see who you were before, and then you showed me how brave you were, knowing perfectly well that the girl you were sending back was you, and that the life that waited for her were all but perfect. And I was left with my thirty year old, but still very much my baby-girl. I was being silly, and I'm the one that's sorry".

"It's you and Dad though," Emma said quietly, snuggling closer to her mother. "You both keep showing me that I can be your daughter, no matter how old I am".


	26. Spots

Hey guys. I'm so sorry it took so long to update. I'm studying for a really big test and I'm really short on time for a while. After the test is done, I promise to be back again.

Holly08 asked for a contiuation for Chapter 8 (chickenpox), and I wrote it so long ago, but I managed a tiny tiny drabble for her. I hope you like it :)

* * *

"I'm trying so hard not to tell you I told you so," Snow smirked, picking Emma's blanket up and dropping it again so it covered her red spotted daughter better.

"Then try harder," Emma said with a glare.

"Oh, honey, believe me when I say that you'd never hear the end of it if not for me trying so hard," Snow replied, raising an eyebrow when Emma started scratching at her cheek. "Now leave that poor cheek alone or you're going to have a scar".

Emma rolled her eyes, but left her cheek be, "At least you don't have a sick baby to take care of".

It came out more bitter than she had intended it to be, but her mother just shook her head in return. "Of course I do. My baby boy might be healthy indeed, but my baby girl isn't, and I'm going to be here for her just the same".

"You're too cheesy for your own good," Emma laughed. "But really, like I've already told you, it was worth the risk if I got to comfort poor Neal".

"That's sweet," Snow answered, sitting on the edge of Emma's bed, "but you're an adult and it's going to take harder and longer care for you to get better".

"Still totally worth it. Now, can I go downstairs so I can at least watch some TV?"

Snow pretended to consider it for a second or two before giving her daughter a nod. "Yes, you may join your father in the living room".

"Gee, thanks, your highness," Emma muttered, bowing her head.

"No problem at all Princess Emma," Snow smirked, watching as the red crept to Emma's cheeks, "two can play this game honey".

Emma groaned, getting off her bed and pulled her blanket with her. Slowly she walked down the stairs, dropping dramatically by her father's side on the couch. He turned his head to look at her and once she caught his eyes she groaned again.

"What?" he asked.

"Your wife is acting like a five year old saying 'I told you so' and laughing at me".

"Well," David dmirked, "she did tell you so".

"I hate you both".

"No, princess, you don't".


	27. Thank You, I'm Sorry

**Hey guys. After I sat to write Spots, I realized I wasn't going to be able to concentrate on preparing for my test anymore. I sat to write and this thing came out. It wasn't requested by anyone, so I hope you like it anyway. And if you've got any requests, just let me know.**

* * *

Emma felt like her soul left her body, floating above her to have a better look at the station. She was sitting with her back to the Sheriff's office glass wall, staring into mid-air. Her father was not far away, sitting by his desk and working on some not-important-at-all paperwork. It was a rare sight, both of them at the station, peaceful and with nothing to worry about, and it was great, really. So why was she feeling so uneasy about it?

If she was being honest with her-self, Emma knew it had nothing to do with the deathly-boring day, but with the man sitting just a few metres away from her. She woke up that morning with a weird feeling, and when she stopped to think about it, while having a boiling hot shower, she could feel her cold tears on her cheeks.

But Emma did everything since that thought dawned her but being honest with herself. She tried to will her mind to stop thinking about, she even tried to close her eyes a few times and pretend to be sleeping, just so she didn't see it in front of her, but nothing helped.

She let out a heavy sigh, her head falling backwards to rest on the glass wall. It wasn't going to leave her mind. Not until she gathered up the courage to actually talk about it. She gave her father a short glance before closing her eyes and raising her fingers to rub at her temple. Well, this was going to take some time.

She stayed like that for long, she had no idea how long exactly. She even meant to stay like this longer, but his voice brought her back to reality, and she was shocked at how worried he sounded.

"Emma?"

His voice was soft, questioning, like he wasn't sure she'd like him to care for her. And damn it, did she make him feel that? She was working so hard the past few months to make them understand that she was almost fully accepting of their dynamic. But maybe it wasn't enough. Maybe she was still doing a lot of stuff the opposite way to what was right.

"Yeah?" she tried to say, but it came out as barely a whisper, her voice broken.

"Are you okay?"

She wanted to tell him. She wanted to shout and scream, to cry and laugh and hug him tight, to say thank you and I'm sorry. She wanted everything, but she only managed a tiny nod, one she was sure was not convincing at all.

"And now for real?" he asked again, and even though her eyes were tightly shut, she knew he got up from his chair and was walking towards her. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But it might help you. And you are, however, required to tell me if it's life threatening".

There was a touch to her shoulder, a gentle barely felt one, that forced her to open her eyes and find his looking directly into hers. She managed a weak smile. "Not life threatening," she promised. "Not anymore, anyway".

She hadn't meant for that last sentence to be heard. But he hears it nonetheless, and was paling in front of her. She adjusted in her chair, motioning for him to sit back in his. Maybe he'd listen?

He didn't turn around. Walking backwards, his eyes never leaving her, he grabbed at his chair and pulled it closer, sitting just in front of her. So close she could feel his breath. "Tell me," he now demanded.

"I said it wasn't life threatening," she insisted. But he heard none of it.

"No, you said it isn't right now, but that it was. So now you're going to me because I'm your father and I told you so," he said with a smile that was half serious half kidding.

"That's not fair," she mumbled, but inside she was already trying to find the right words. She was actually glad he was pushing her. She needed to talk to him about it already; it really was not that big a deal.

"Of course it is," he smiled, now genuinely, and his thumb brushed against her cheek where a tear was falling. "It makes you cry and it makes you distant, and it was previously life threatening. And you're not alone Em, so you don't have to deal with it alone".

Oh, how she loved him.

"You were in a coma for twenty eight years," she said softly, her eyes falling to his neck. "Because of me".

She wasn't sure he really heard what she said. The moment she tried to blame herself though, he started shaking his head. "None of it were your fault Emma. It was all because of the curse, all Regina's fault".

She nodded slightly. "Yeah, but you almost died Dad. You almost died, because of me".

She didn't make much sense, she knew. But she was also certain that he'd understood what she wanted to say. He always did. She watched his move, trying to make himself closer to her, but she pushed her chair back, regaining that distance he was so desperate to close. Her hand rose to his shoulder and she brushed it against it, barely touching, but clearly trailing some line she saw in her mind.

Closing her eyes, she could see that familiar picture from Henry's storybook. Her father, lying in a pool of blood. His shirt no longer white, and both his chest and shoulder heavily heart. And he wasn't breathing. Nor was his heart beating.

His head dropped to look at her gently fingers, and she opened her eyes just in time to see realization dawning him. He pulled back, startling her with his sudden movement, and pulled his shirt over his head. She had seen him shirtless before, but never did she look for that certain white line.

"You see this?" he pointed to the apparent scar. He waited for her nod, then went on, fire in his eyes. "This thing might have killed me as well, and I wouldn't care Em. You know why?"

She was scared. She was scared to hear any more of what he had to say. But she shook her head anyway, as if daring him to go on.

"Because I got this while protecting you. Because this is an evident to the fact that you were going to live".

Emma got up from her chair, and walked closer to him, now desperate herself to close that gap between them. "You weren't supposed to risk your life for me," she determined, standing in front of him with her hands folded over her chest.

"You're my daughter," he said simply.

And her weakness, her sadness disappeared in favour of annoyance. "So?" she demanded.

"So how can you tell me that I was not supposed to protect you? You were a baby, not even an hour old, and you were about to die because some evil witch decided se didn't want your mother to be happy. Of course I was supposed to protect you".

Her fist slammed at the desk, his long forgotten cup of coffee falling to the floor and shattering. Her voice shook with anger as she said – "you almost died, David".

"I did," he answered calmly, getting up and stepping between her and the shattered if to protect her from accidently stepping on it.

"You have scars that will never heal, and you lost twenty eight years of your life, because of me. Why can't you realise that?"

She was crying now, so angry that he just didn't understand. But he remained calm, looking straight into her eyes.

"I have scars that will never heal," he agreed. "And I have lost twenty years of my life. But those twenty eight years would have been torture on me, just like they were on your mother and the rest of this god-damned town. So I don't even regret losing them. And even if they were the vest twenty eight years of my life, I still can never regret losing them. Not if it meant that I kept you alive and got to see you again when I woke up".

"David—" she whispered angrily, looking down at her hands. She didn't dare raising her eyes because she knew the moment she did will also be the moment she started crying hysterically.

"It's _Dad_, Emma, not David," he answered.

She raised her eyes slowly to look him. And she knew she'd never looked more broken. She knew she never looked younger. And it didn't help her in the slightest when she finally opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm so, so sorry Daddy," she said through a broken voice, stepping into his now open arms, falling into that embrace that made her feel safe again.

"Nothing to be sorry for," he whispered into her ear, holding her tighter than he ever did.

"Thank you," she said softly after a moment of silence. "Thank you for saving my life. I'm sorry it almost cost you yours".

And she felt him shaking his head at what she just said, and she knew he was about to tell her off. So she shook her head as well, whispering a small, soft "shh," as she buried her head deeper into his chest.

* * *

**Tell me what you thing?**


	28. Two Children to Come Back to

**To the guest who requested Emma telling Snow she still needed her Mum. First of all, here's a tiny ficlet just for you. I hope you like it. If it's not what you meant, feel free to drop another comment - you were a bit general so I went with what I felt was right for the moment. Second thing is, you might want to check my story "Your Haven'. The fist chapter is a Daddy Charming one, but the one that comes after that is a mama!Snow one you just might like :)**

**Hope you enjoy this one, and if anyone's got any more requests, just talk to me, I always like to hear your thought and prompts.**

* * *

She stood in front of the cells, her brother in her hands peacefully sucking on his thumb, unaware of all that was happening around him. After all, he loved his big sister's hands just like he loved Mummy's, so what did it matter?

Emma subconsciously rocked him back and forth, already feeling the tears down her face. Did they really expect her to just lock them in and leave? How could she ever do that? She took a step closer, standing just in front of the cell bars that brought the two cells together, giving herself a way to be equally close to both her parents.

"We believe in you Emma," David repeated quietly, looking at her with such strong eyes she suddenly wanted to crawl into his equally strong hands until she felt safe again. "You just have to believe in yourself. Elsa, Anna you and Neal, together you can do this".

She wanted to shake her head forcefully, break down and shout at them both. But instead she managed a small nod, her voice breaking when she spoke again. "I—I promise to try," she told them both.

"You can do this Emma," snow whispered, her hand reaching between the bars to wrap around her daughter's arm. David's hand soon found it's way there as well, and Emma let herself concentrate, if only for a second, on the feeling of having both her parents and her brother so close.

She turned to Snow, looking deep into her mother's eyes. "Please be safe. Please, I don't know what's going to happen and I'm—I'm scared, okay? I need you, Mama. I still need you both, and I don't want to lose you again. I can't lose you again".

Snow finally let herself cry, feeling her husband's hand at her side. "You won't lose us, Emma. Never again, okay? You just be focused on being yourself. Take on the snow queen and win, and then come back and unlock these cells. We'll be right here waiting for you honey".

Emma gave her mother a last nod, before turning to her father one last time. "No matter how strong a curse can be, no matter how hard someone tries to split the two of you," she broke, her voice barely more than a whisper of pain, "you always find each other right?"

Her father gave her a teary smile and a fierce nod. "Yes, exactly".

"So please, Dad, please remember that. Please find you way into each other's hearts. Because you love each other, and we both love you," she said, indicating herself and Neal, "and you have to stay safe and come back to two children who need you".

And with a last nod to both her parents, she turned around. Just in time to see Killian entre the station.

"Swan, a word?"

* * *

**Tell me what you think?**


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